


Wrong

by warmachine



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmachine/pseuds/warmachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Suddenly it all made sense -- why Jim insisted on getting dressed in the bathroom; why Bones never seemed to be able to catch Jim going to bed before him; why Jim never took his shirt off, even when the A/C in their dorm broke and it was 80° inside all summer. It all made sense, all came together in that one second Bones walked in and saw Jim without a shirt, without a binder on.”</em>
</p>
<p>In which Bones cares for Jim the way Jim won't care for himself; tries to help him learn to love himself for who he is, the way Bones loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> hey what's up long time no see! i literally haven't written anything in three years!
> 
> this fic is about trans dfab jim! i was talking with my qpp about trans jim headcanons and i, being a Dfab Transmasculine Person myself, got Really Emotional and wanted to explore them a bit more so i wrote this. i'm pretty new to the star trek fanbase (hello everyone!) so i apologize if bits of this were inaccurate and if it was out of character.
> 
> some content warnings: dysphoria, internalized transphobia, needles
> 
> enjoy!!

It was that time again -- the dreaded checkup with Bones. Jim didn’t have anything to be worried about, not really… except for the _needles_. The God damn _needles_. Most of the examination was easy: sit and wait while Bones checked his blood pressure; continue to sit and wait while Bones checked his heartrate and his breathing; sit and wait for even longer while Bones made sure there weren’t any vaccines Jim needed… the list goes on. But in the case that he _did_ need a vaccine, or if Bones wanted to do some bloodwork… _that_ was what Jim dreaded.

“Damn it, Jim, will you stop squirming around?” Bones sighed heavily and let go of Jim’s arm, putting the needle down for a moment as well. “Do I need to call Spock in here so he can hold your hand?”

“No!” Jim squawked pathetically, looking wide-eyed up at Bones. “I don’t want anybody else to see.”

“Then stop squirming around,” Bones repeated. When Jim continued to look absolutely petrified, Bones let out another sigh. “Just… close your eyes and take some deep breaths,” he suggested awkwardly. “You can hold _my_ hand if you want.”

Jim nodded slowly and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. When he started to look calmer, Bones administered the vaccine without any warning -- it was over and done with before Jim even realized it had happened. Once he _did_ , though, he let out a rather pathetic noise and grabbed his arm helplessly. “Why me,” he lamented, tears in his eyes.

“You’re such a God damn drama queen,” Bones scoffed as he disposed of his equipment and washed his hands. “It wasn’t that bad. And I _know_ you’ve been through worse.”

A visible shudder ran through Jim’s body, and he wiped his eyes carefully. “Do you still have those shiny bandaids that are impossible to take off? I want one of those. I don’t even want to _look_ at my arm until the spot is completely healed.”

Bones rolled his eyes and left the room for a moment, presumably rummaging through his office to find the bandaids Jim wanted. He could never keep track of them -- Jim was the only person who ever wanted a bandaid in the first place. After a few minutes he returned, tossing the box of bandaids to Jim, who patched himself up happily.

“I love these things,” he commented, setting the box aside and sliding off the examination table. “Are we done here? I want to get as far away from your damn needles as I can.”

“Not quite,” Bones said. “Any weirdness with your menstrual cycle?” Bones rolled his eyes at Jim’s mildly offended expression. “You know I have to ask. I worry about you. I know your periods suck enough in the first place.”

“No, I’m fine,” Jim huffed. “And no, before you ask, there’s no chance I could’ve gotten pregnant. Can I go now?”

Bones nodded at Jim, noticing the faint blush that had formed on Jim’s cheeks. He knew Jim hated talking about his body, knew Jim hated _his body_ , but Bones couldn’t seem to stress enough to him that he still needed to take care of himself. Bones let out what felt like the millionth sigh that day as Jim rushed out of Sickbay with no more than a little wave.

Bones had found out years ago, back when he and Jim were roommates at the Academy. It was a complete accident -- Bones came home earlier than he’d said he would, having gotten stood up by a date, and ended up walking in on Jim changing clothes. Suddenly it all made sense -- why Jim insisted on getting dressed in the bathroom; why Bones never seemed to be able to catch Jim going to bed before him; why Jim never took his shirt off, even when the A/C in their dorm broke and it was 80° inside all summer. It all made sense, all came together in that one second Bones walked in and saw Jim without a shirt, without a binder on. _It all made sense_.

Neither of them had said anything. Bones froze in the doorway, and Jim froze next to his bed, half-dressed and looking like he was about to cry. After what felt like several small eternities of silence, Bones spluttered out an apology and hurried back outside, shutting the door behind him. They stayed up all that night talking; Jim telling Bones how sorry he was, how much he hated his body, how he wouldn’t be offended if Bones wanted to find a different roommate. Bones telling Jim he didn’t need to be sorry, that his body was fine the way it was, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It took Bones a little while to adjust -- he’d never had a trans friend before, not as far as he knew, and he wanted to support Jim as much as he could. Soon enough, he was even quicker than Jim was to correct people who misgendered Jim; he started getting Jim’s pads and tampons for him (anyone who asked why he was buying them got Bones’s Death Glare™); and he took it upon himself to be Jim’s medical provider. As far as he knew, Jim wouldn’t go to a doctor unless he absolutely had to, which worried Bones to no end. Not that he’d ever admitted that explicitly, though.

Now, today, years later, he was still looking after Jim as best he could. And he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

* * *

Another day, another trip to Sickbay for Bones to examine him. Jim sometimes felt like Bones worried a little _too_ much -- he acted like he didn’t care, but Bones was a horrible liar and it was painfully obvious to Jim how much he worried. This time might have been a _little_ bit justified, though -- Jim had nearly lost his voice.

“Well, it’s not strep,” Bones concluded after a moment. “You haven’t had any allergic reactions to anything?”

“Nope,” Jim whispered hoarsely. “It just, uh… happened.”

Bones narrowed his eyes at Jim, and Jim prayed that he wouldn’t realize what really happened. Except he did, because Bones was deceptively smarter than he let on. What a bastard.

“Jim,” Bones said, his voice firm and angry, yet somehow gentle and understanding at the same time, “you have got to stop screaming into your pillow.”

Jim frowned, avoiding making eye contact with Bones. There was silence for a minute -- Bones always got like this when Jim was upset. He waited for Jim to open up, and when Jim didn’t, he’d talk enough for the both of them until he did.

“I know you hate hearing your voice,” Bones said gently, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of the examination table where Jim was sitting. “I know you’re scared of what people think when they first hear you talk. But you can’t keep hurting your throat like this.”

“Why’s that?” Jim rasped, still avoiding eye contact with Bones. He coughed, once, and then winced, his throat burning from the pain. Part of him hated the sensation, hated the pain he was in; part of him was glad to be wrecking his voice -- his too-high voice, the voice that gave him away every time he spoke.

“You need to take care of yourself,” Bones said softly. He reached over and put his hand on Jim’s knee, gently, reassuringly. “If anything, do it for my sake. I hate seeing you like this, and having to pull you back in here all the time is getting real tiring real fast.”

Jim sighed, his frown softening a bit, and he finally glanced over at Bones. “I hate when you get all sincere with me like that,” he whispered, slowly, trying not to hurt his throat more. He wanted to put his hand over Bones’s, the one resting on his knee, but he decided against it. Bones was only touching him out of sympathy. Pity, even. That had to be it; nothing else.

“Yeah?” Bones asked, slowly taking his hand off of Jim’s knee and getting up from his chair. “Well, stop treating yourself like shit, and maybe I won’t _have_ to get all sincere with you.” He patted Jim’s shoulder before heading toward the door. “Just go rest until your voice is better. The last thing you need right now is to try to yell orders from that beanbag of a chair you sit in on the bridge.”

Jim snorted and slid off the table, heading toward the door as well and stopping next to Bones. “It’s not a beanbag, Bones, jeez. I don’t know why you hate it so much. It’s my _chair_. It’s important.”

“Yeah, well, it’s terrible for your posture,” Bones scoffed before gently pushing Jim out the door and back into the hall. “Now stop trying to talk and go rest.”

“Aye, Captain,” Jim wheezed jokingly, lazily saluting Bones before walking away down the hall. Maybe he _would_ try to take care of himself -- he’d do anything for Bones’s sake.

* * *

It was the first time Bones had had to actually chase Jim down for an examination in a while. At first he thought Jim was just scared about getting bloodwork done, but when Jim was completely _silent_ for once while Bones drew a blood sample, he knew something was wrong. Usually Jim only acted like this when Bones had fucked up _majorly_ , but he couldn’t think of what he possibly could have done to upset him. Bones frowned as he finished with the sample, frowned even more when Jim didn’t get excited like he usually did over the shiny bandaids. Once he got the bloodwork squared away, Bones pulled up a chair and sat in front of Jim, just like he’d done many times in the past. It seemed they talked about their feelings a lot during Jim’s checkups -- not that Bones was complaining.

“All right,” Bones said, crossing his arms and looking straight at Jim. “What’s wrong with you, Jim?”

Jim didn’t respond, same as always. Bones waited, and waited, and when Jim still wouldn’t even make eye contact with him, he sighed. “You only get like this when I’ve done something to really piss you off,” Bones began, uncrossing his arms and reaching out to put his hand on Jim’s knee, like he does every time they talk like this. “What did I do? Because I really--”

“Don’t touch me,” Jim snapped, and Bones withdrew his hand quickly, as if Jim had slapped it away. “Damn it, Jim, what the hell did I _do_?” Bones demanded. “I don’t--”

“The other night,” Jim practically snarled, frowning at the floor. “The other night, when you came to me all drunk, talking about the guy you liked, how hot he is, how nice his voice sounds, how much you love his body--” Jim bit his lip, hard, trying to hold back his tears, “how much you’d love him to fuck you--”

“Jim, I--”

“Have you noticed the way I look at you?” Jim asked suddenly, turning to glare at Bones, tears in his eyes. “Have you noticed how I flinch almost every time you touch me, how I used to get nervous whenever you changed in front of me, even after you knew?” Jim’s anger seemed to dissolve into despair, and he looked away from Bones again, sniffling a bit. “I’ve loved you ever since we met,” he continued, his voice shaky. “And that-- that just made me hate my body more.” Jim was visibly tensed now, gripping hard on the edge of the table. “It’s all wrong, it’s disgusting, it’s _wrong_ , and I _know_ you don’t really go for women, and s-so I thought-- I thought, how could you ever love me back?”

Bones stared at Jim with disbelief, trying to take all of this in. He had no idea he’d said all that to Jim -- he was mentally kicking his own ass for getting that drunk in the first place -- and he was shocked to find out that Jim had had feelings for him all along. Jim played everything he did off so nonchalantly; Bones had been completely oblivious this entire time. And he felt like shit for it.

Bones was snapped out of his thoughts when Jim hopped off the table and quickly strode over to the door, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeves and very pointedly not looking at Bones. Jim was a good way down the hall before Bones managed to make his legs work, and he ran after Jim, grabbing his arm once he caught up. “Jim,” he huffed -- he really needed to work out more -- “wait. I can explain.”

“I don’t really want you to,” Jim muttered pathetically, weakly trying to pull his arm away from Bones. “Just--”

“You’re an idiot,” Bones continued anyway, and Jim paused, turning to look back at Bones, confusion clouding his eyes. Bones loosened his grip on Jim’s arm, but kept hold of his shirt sleeve. He looked down at Jim’s shirt as he spoke. “You’re a God damned idiot, and every time you do something stupid and reckless out there I have a heart attack. Every time you take a hit to protect someone else, or beam back up to the ship last when a storm hits… every time you forget your first aid kit when you beam down….” Bones sighed deeply, looking up into Jim’s eyes. “I worry that you’ll actually get yourself killed one day. I worry that sometimes you’d rather die than live in the body you have, and it scares me.” Bones paused for a moment, looking back down at Jim’s shirt, feeling Jim’s gaze heavy on him. “It scares me when you don’t take your binder off all day, when I can tell it’s hard for you to breathe. It scares me when you scream into your pillow like you used to... when you kill your voice because you hate it so much. You scare me so much, Jim, God damn it, because I love you too.”

Jim’s eyes widened, and Bones let go of his shirt sleeve, stepping back a bit. “I love your voice, and the annoying shit you pull every time I try to give you a damn vaccine. I love how wild you can get even if you end up scaring me half to death. And I love your body.” Bones looked over Jim sadly, stepping back a bit further. “You could never be wrong to me, because you’re _you_ , and I love you.” He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. “You. I was talking about you that night.”

Suddenly Jim’s arms were around Bones, hugging him so tightly Bones thought he might break a rib or two. Bones hugged Jim back, gently, and he rubbed Jim’s back slowly as Jim apologized, cried, and choked out “I love you”s directly into Bones’s shoulder.

Bones was pretty sure he shed some tears too. Not that he’d ever admit it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!!! 95% of this was based on my own experiences as a trans person (& on my experiences being Afraid Of Needles), from wearing my binder for far too long and fucking up my body to wanting to destroy my vocal chords so i wouldn't have to hear myself talk. i've come a long way since then & i hope our beautiful jim here can learn to love himself for who he is too
> 
> comments are always appreciated but please be nice !!! feel free to yell at me on [my tumblr](http://st4rfleet.tumblr.com/) or [on twitter](https://twitter.com/inklinq) as well <3
> 
> bye bye!!!


End file.
